Righter-Of-Wrongs: Radi Timbara's Story
by Steel Angel
Summary: A tale set mainly in the far east, revolving around the life and times of Radi Timbara, Khan samurai.
1. Prologue and Chapter 1

Righter-of-Wrongs:  
Radi Timbara's Story  
By John Aridi  
  
Prologue  
Mount Fuji Area, January 9th 2000  
  
Thunder rolled far above as the rain relentlessly fell on the small gathering in the foothills of Mount Fuji. And as, contrary to all known physics, the lighting flashed, whiting out the surroundings in a blaze of electrical fire...  
Now, bodies can be seen. Some are men. Some are creatures approximating wolves. Two of the bodies are...different. Huge. Nine feet tall when standing, at an approximation. Massively distorted musculature. Dark green and brown fur. Wolfish features. And twisted insane eyes. Dark red, where present. Dark green blood coats the grass beneath the obvious battlefield. The bodies are sliced and diced, hacked and gouged and clawed.  
Off to one side of the melee, now finished, there are laid three bodies in the soaking mud. One of them is a tiger, the body disfigured with claw marks. The other two are human; one is a man, his hands folded on his chest, blood staining his shirt which is covered with bulletholes. The other is a young girl of around sixteen years of age. She also has her hands folded on her chest, and a beautific smile on her face. There is no obvious wound on her young body, her dress still intact.  
A semicircle of seven warriors stands around another. The semicircle is all in human form. Most of the seven carry swords, the katana of the samurai. One carries a massive polearm tipped with a curved blade, a naginata. The woman that carries this is tall, almost six feet tall. They stand, in the rain, ignorant (or maybe uncaring) of the storm they are in.  
The last warrior is crying, his arms wrapped around a woman's body. The woman is crucified across a Tung wood cross. Another is next to it, with a man. The man is horribly damaged. His intestines are hanging from a gash in his stomach. His blood is still dripping to the grass under the cross. His bones are visible through the many hacks and gashes that tatter his clothing, the robes of a samurai warrior. The man looks to be in his mid forties and the woman in her late thirties. She is Bangladeshi, her heritage proudly worn like a medal of honour in her clothing and skin. The man is Japanese, his visage similar to that of the shoguns of bygone days. The rain soaks them both.  
They are both wearing dark jade rings, almost exactly the same. They are husband and wife.  
The wife is in the arms of her son.  
Her son is massive. He is nearly seven feet tall, and massively muscular, his shoulders nearly four feet across. He is wearing a deep red karate gi, slashed open in places, blood visible. The rain is soaking it but he isn't mindful of that. The katana hanging by his side is in a dark red sheath, magnificently decorated. A single giant fang projects from the pommel of the weapon. It looks too big to be anything but fake. His dark brown hair droops down to the nape of his neck and across his eyebrows. A small ponytail is tied with something white. His face is a mask of suffering; if under normal circumstances he would be described as handsome. His startlingly green eyes, usually blazing with his inner fire and strength, are squeezed tight shut against the flood of tears, mingling with the rain. The scars that run down the left hand side of his face look like they were deep; they all look as if they passed straight over the eye, too. And he is crying.  
A warrior in the semicircle turns to another, as another lightning bolt strikes somewhere near. He looks angry. His bald skull is oddly pale, a single oriental figure tattooed on the back of his head. He is wearing a dark leather trenchcoat over jeans and a blue shirt. He speaks in hushed, clipped Japanese.  
"We have lost three this day. And still he weeps not for them, but for his parents. It is his fault that Michiro and Shiratoga and Ku are dead!"  
A clap of thunder punctuates the statement.  
The woman to his left turns and slaps him, across the cheek, hard. A thin line can be seen down her cheek, a tear trail barely definable in the rain. She is short, and wearing a white sleeveless shirt and combats. A brand on her shoulder marks her as Hakken and her sword is bare in her left hand.  
"Shut up, Tomaru. Just shut up."  
The man, although angry, does so.  
And still, the man who lost his parents cries, the rain patterning his gi with dark polkadots.  
Until he steps back, and falls to his knees, to the mud and the blood of the hill, and throws back his head and howls, long and low and loud, in a passable impression of a wolf.  
The others watch. Until one of the warriors, a woman dressed all in black leather with long red hair, steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder, and takes up the howl herself. As does the man next to her. And the next. Until the entire gathering is howling, a mournful, haunting sound. Into the night, over the sound of the thunder, the lightning, the rain. Until the howl changes. It changes to a sharp, angry call for vengeance. And all at once, the howl broadcasts to all Hengeyokai that can hear that Mirumoto and Shiva Timbara met their deaths bravely, after resisting torture. And that now Radi Timbara is coming for the centipedes that did it.  
The wrongs will be righted.  
  
Chapter 1  
Xia Dong Forest, China, 14th July 1975  
  
The burning noonday sun glinted from the deep red blood that was being spilled in the small clearing in the forest. Glittering arcs of light were described by the katanas of the warriors as they struck and counterstruck, parried and dodged. There were three, and two of those were fighting against the other. There was no doubting who was the more proficient.  
Mirumoto Timbara growled something inaudible as he hacked and sliced with his sword. The Bakemono he was facing were good, but they were hardly masters of the art of Kenjutsu. He was fending both off with the weapon of his ancestors, Puira-Dakat. It flashed as blow after blow ringed from its blade. Mirumoto's hands stung a little from the hammering assault. He didn't care. The foe was attempting to enter Timbara lands and he wouldn't let them live.  
The first Bakemono fell. The hideous creature was about man-sized, with chitinous plates all over it, insect-like. Its three eyes were deep red. Mirumoto spun the sword in a tight arc, a flattened C, with his right hand. The thing barely ducked the right stroke and hadn't figured on the blade being so sharply drawn left. It's body clattered to the ground, the head landing several meters away.  
"Keep at it, father, help is at hand!"  
...and as if from nowhere, Mai was there. She rocketed out of a branch, her sword gripped tight in her hands, the indefensible arc it described slicing the hands from the other Bakemono. The look of surprise on its face was beautiful to Mirumoto. He loved seeing his enemies full of fear. It showed him the error of their ways. A true warrior shows no fear. No fear, no weakness. No regret.  
Mirumoto reversed the sword in his grip and neatly sliced the thing in half.  
He dropped to one knee, clutching a wound he had suffered taking the things on. An unlucky attempt at parrying two strokes at once had let the second blade slide off and stick him. The wound wasn't deep. Mai looked concerned.  
"Don't rest too long, father..."  
Mirumoto looked up at her. Mai was around six feet tall, and had flowing dark hair. She had an unnatural kind of beauty that seemed to project itself ahead of her. She moved like a true predator, even though she did not bear the changing gene. She was fifteen, and his best student. Her swordsmanship was stunning.  
"Why, Mai? Why may I not rest too long?"  
"Umm...because mother is giving birth. Right now. And she swears if you are no there that she will...umm...kick your ass. Is that no the right term? Sounds Gaijin, to me, father..."  
Mirumoto stared at his daughter for a few seconds. And then he laughed, and turned and dove off into the forest, his form coalescing into the visage of a tiger as he ran, his daughter trying to keep up as he was running. Running toward the house he had built with his bare hands, running as fast as his four legs would carry him...  
*  
When he arrived, Shiva was on her back, her legs apart, her massive bump pointing to the ceiling, laid on their bed. Mark was by her side, holding her hand; he may have only been five years old but he was bearing the pain admirably, as any Timbara should. She was gripping like a vice. Hiroko was stood off to one side. He was pacing nervously, changing forms every now and then just so he could pace more. Hiroko was born at the same time as Mai; they were twins. Hiroko, however, was a Bagheera like his mother. He had been schooled in swordcraft just as his twin sister had, but he simply wasn't a fighter. Hiroko was more of a scholar; he could read by his 2nd birthday. His smallish stature when compared to the rest of the family made him look odd.  
Mirumoto ran to his wife's side and took her hand, gritting his teeth as she dug her nails into his hand.  
"I am here, my love...Mai, help your mother...and Hiroko, please go out to the kitchen and fix some hot water."  
Hiroko looked up. He was in Sokto form.  
"What for?"  
Mirumoto thought for a few seconds.  
"Just in case..."  
Hiroko gladly retired to the kitchen. There would be blood, he knew it, and Hiroko hated blood. He paced in there instead. But strangely...although he felt he should feel something...he just felt...at peace. He knew it would turn out all right.  
"Why the hell am I thinking like this?" he asked himself.  
Until he heard his mother stop gasping and screaming. And his father gasped.  
Hiroko ran back out. He was expecting the worst now; that gasp was never good. As he emerged he was thinking...  
Metis born...dead, maybe...or worse...  
But he stopped.  
Shiva was laid there cradling a baby to her chest. The umbilical had already been sliced. And the baby was just laid there. It wasn't crying. It was laid there, watching people. Mai had a little blood on her hands, and she departed to wash it off. And Mirumoto was stood there, his arms gently around his wife, crying tears of joy. Little Mark was beaming.  
"Itta boy, Hi'ko. Itta boy."  
And Hiroko had to stop himself crying tears of joy. He was hit by what felt like a backwash of elation. And he was laughing. And smiling. And now, he knew that it was all going to be all right.  
Mirumoto looked up at his wife, and stared deeply into her eyes, and whispered.  
"What will you call our son, Shiva..."  
She looked at him, the tears of joy coursing openly down her face.  
"May I...give him an Indian name...?"  
Mirumoto nodded, and Shiva gazed down at her newborn son. He looked up at her with ice-blue eyes, as she brushed absently at his hair. He had been born with a full head of hair.  
"Then...his name will mean...strength...and honour...and courage...his name will be Radi..."  
...and Hiroko knew it was the right name. He didn't know how he knew or even why he knew it, but he knew. And he knew well.  
Mai walked back in and smiled at her new baby brother, holding a finger out to him. He took it.  
"Hey there, little guy..."  
But while Radi was holding her finger, he was reaching for his father's sword. And not one amongst them could think why. But no one cared. They were all awed by the wonder of this, the miracle of life.  
Radi suckled on his sister's finger hopefully. He looked confused when nothing happened.  
His mother chuckled, even in her exhausted, weakened state. And she fed him. And they fell asleep like that, mother and baby, even as the rest of the family looked on.  
And they all noted how blissfully peaceful both looked.  



	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
Court of the Jade Dragon, Japan, May 10th 1986  
  
In the court of the Hengeyokai, laughter and happiness echoed through the halls and chambers. A celebration was underway. For today, a new General was to be elected from the many warriors. Hakken, Khan, Nezumi and Tengu walked the palatial court in whatever form they so desired. Other species were present also; however, most of them did not show their true natures.  
The guardian on the door was none other than Kibagame. Kibagame was one of Mirumoto's oldest and closest friends. The big Zhong Lung was related to him by blood somewhere along the large lines of Hengeyokai heritage. He held his massive staff easily in one hand, idly spinning it every now and then. It was at least five feet long, and thick as a man's arm. Radi had watched him spar with his father, once; the big man was afraid to use the weapon, as it was perfectly capable of killing Mirumoto even if dropped by accident. Radi loved seeing his father swordfight. He moved so smoothly, and yet with the lightning speed of a tiger pouncing it's prey. Radi had once seen his father slice a single hair from the head of Hokimaru, a Kitsune warrior. They were practising at the time. Radi liked Hokimaru; he always told funny jokes and he smiled a lot. And sometimes he brought his daughter, who Radi liked playing with. They had mock sword battles together. Her name was Ishimaru.  
Of course, Radi had other friends, too. There were the Hakken twins Shige and Togusa, and their sister Kotori. Chow Kwuan the Khan, Katakura the Tengu. Kagetoro was a Khan too, although he was very quiet. He was big, too.  
"Mirumoto...I see you have brought young Radi with you..how is the rest of your family? Good I hope..."  
Mirumoto chuckled and bowed slightly to his friend, who bowed back. Radi bowed too, as he knew was correct.  
"They are fine, Kibagame. Mai is teaching Mark some sword skills, and I am sure Hiroko is out of the way somewhere...how are your kids?"  
"Oh, fair...Miki is complaining. She claims that the sun hurts her when she is out too long. I told her, it is the albinism. She never believes me..."  
Mirumoto laughed.  
"She will be here?"  
Kibagame smiled and nodded. "Yes. She is at present harassing Lord Kwai to tell her why her eyes have gone amber."  
Mirumoto raised an eyebrow and ruffled Radi's hair.  
"Go on in, son. I wish to discuss some things with Kibagame..."  
Radi grinned and ran inside. And sure enough, he ran smack bang into Ishimaru. Literally. They both fell back onto their behinds, both laughing in surprise.  
"Well, Radi, since when have you assaulted innocent bystanders?"  
He laughed and stood, and held out a hand to help her up.  
"Since you started trying to shoulder barge walking walls out of the way, my friend..." When she took his hand, he pulled her neatly to her feet and bowed from the waist.  
Ishimaru was a very bright girl. She was not particularly clever, but she was fast. Very fast. She had the reactions of her fox kin. Her red hair was even now lengthened to the small of her back. He loved her hair. It reminded him of fire. She let him brush it out after they went swimming in the lake, once. He had never gathered the courage to ask to do it again.  
Following behind her was Shige and Togusa. Their sister was probably with Miki.   
"Thanks, Radi, we knew you would slow her down!"  
"Yeah, thanks!"  
He laughed and bowed in greeting to them both.  
"How are you both? And where is Chow and the others?"  
"They are all in the throne room with Miki and Lord Kwai, it is so funny, you should come and watch!"  
With that the two young wolf cubs turned and bolted off down the corridor. Radi looked to Ishimaru and smiled.  
"After you, friend..."  
Ishimaru headed off ahead of him. As they walked, Radi nodded and bowed and smiled to all the elders he passed. He was on very good terms with all of them. Not one person disliked him in the court. He seemed to radiate friendliness.  
Mirumoto watched his son wander the corridor. He smiled, pride welling up in his heart. Radi was truly a miracle; he was charming, friendly, honourable to a fault, and always honest. He always respected rank and seniority. He also never lost his temper; Mirumoto had only seen that happen once. Mirumoto had pulled Radi from the boys that had been bothering Ishimaru. They were calling her names, apparently. And Radi had kept his cool and just tried to get her away from them, until one of them had called her a bitch. It was only then that Radi turned, with murder in his eyes, and pounced the boy. The others had all piled in, five or six of them, but they were only humans. He was soundly thrashing them when Mirumoto intervened.  
Funny, how no matter how much they called him a big dumb ox, he would shrug it off, but if they so much as looked the wrong way at any of his close friends...  
Radi was certainly big. Even at the age of ten, he was large, his muscle structure starting to develop. Mirumoto had made sure Radi received a great deal of attention when it came to sword work. Even the Tengu warriors had commented on how well he handled a sword for a ten-year-old. From their constant travel around Asia, Radi had dark skin, in stark contrast of his eyes. Mirumoto and Shiva had watched those eyes turn from blue to emerald green. They shone. They burned with inner fire.  
Mirumoto loved his son. More than anything. He knew who would receive his sword when he died. Mai was skilled, yes...but Radi...Radi was not only Khan, but he was deserving of the sword. Mirumoto knew. The Timbara family sword would go to Radi.  
The other thing about Radi...although he was not especially bright or intelligent, he had a knack for blending in with other cultures. Even at this age he could speak Japanese, Indian and most dialects of Chinese. It really was amazing. And he was highly empathic. He could detect feelings almost as if he had a sixth sense for it.  
Mirumoto spared his son one last look of love, and turned to go to a dressing chamber. He had to get ready.  
*  
Ishimaru and Radi strolled into the throne room of the massive court. Sat there on the central throne was Lord Kwai, an ancient Zhong Lung who was like a grandfather to Radi. He was small for such a powerful man. Sat on his knee was Miki. Miki always wore lots of white. Radi strongly suspected this was in blatant disregard of the fact that white is the Japanese colour for death. It suited her. She had pale skin, and up until about a week ago, she had red eyes. She was an albino. Her hair was a kind of creamy white.  
"But uncle Kwai, why did they change colour? I LIKE red!"  
Kwai laughed.  
"Child, you must understand...red may be a nice colour...but now your eyes are the colour of gold, a sign from Helios himself!"  
Miki blinked.  
"Really?"  
As they talked, Ishimaru and Radi joined Shige, Togusa and the others sitting around Kwai's feet. Kotori smiled up at Radi as he sat cross-legged as per usual. He smiled back and bowed lightly, and whispered.  
"Hello, Kotori...what is going on?"  
"Lord Kwai is...educating Miki, and she looks like she is satisfied now."  
Radi looked up to Miki. She smiled at him and waved, and looked back to Kwai.  
"Will it make me a better swordsman?"  
"Who knows, young one? Who knows? Ah, Radi...please step forward, child..."  
Radi's eyes nearly popped out on stalks. Lord Kwai had asked him personally to come forward! It was all he could do to keep an idiotic grin from his face as he stepped forward, and performed kow-tow to Lord Kwai.  
"My lord..."  
Kwai laughed.  
"On your feet, young Radi. On your feet. I wish to...test you."  
Radi stood, and cocked his head to one side.  
"Test...me? What kind of test is it to be, my lord?"  
"Swordsmanship. Mirumoto!"  
Radi looked around. His father emerged from behind a curtain. He was dressed differently to his usual attire, in a dark cloak.  
"My lord."  
"Let your son use the sword, Mirumoto. Let him use it against me."  
Radi turned back to Lord Kwai, but he heard a sharp intake of breath from his father. Lord Kwai is ordering me to use Puira-Dakat? But that sword...  
"Radi. Take great care with this sword, Radi...you know its value."  
Radi looked back around to his father who was presenting the sword still sheathed. Radi wondered why it was as yet undrawn, but then he realised. Drawing a weapon indicates you are going to use it. And he is not. I am.  
Radi took the sword with great reverence. The dragon's tooth pommel gleamed dully in the presence of the Lord. Up and down the grip, jade stones reflected the torchlight, the fire glinting on the red and green, black and white. They were carved with Japanese and Chinese characters of power, and the grip was bound in dark red. The gold around the guard and the pommel looked as it always did, polished to perfection and inscribed with flowing script.  
Radi eased the blade from its sheath. The silver reflected the firelight almost perfectly. The blade was three feet long, and patterned up and down with gold inlaid characters. The rubies set every six inches up its length looked as if they burned on the inside, with some kind of cleansing fire. Radi had to fight to tear his eyes away from the sight of it, in his own hands. It was an amazing sight.  
Kwai stood, after Miki went to sit down with the others. As he stood he pulled his own katana from its sheath. Radi's breath caught in his throat. The sword was pure silver. Up and down. And it was around a foot longer than Radi's own. Radi wondered how the old man could lift it.  
"Prepare yourself, Radi Timbara. Prepare yourself..."  
And with that, he lunged forwards. The point of the silver blade lanced toward Radi's stomach almost quicker than he could think. Almost.  
He brought Puira-Dakat down, smashing Kwai's sword down with it, the silver blade biting into the wooded floor between his feet, and he leapt, straight up, reversing Puira-Dakat, the tip pointed straight downwards, and as he fell-  
Kwai was rising up to join him. He shot straight upwards, parrying aside Radi's attempted death-from-above drop, and arching out above and behind the young Khan. But Radi was ready for that one, too. He spun around, sword held in the defensive posture. But Kwai was nowhere to be seen. Radi knew what this meant.  
He ducked just soon enough to see the silver blade slice through the air where his neck had been. He rolled forward, spinning mid roll and coming to his feet, ready, this time facing Kwai, who had kicked off a strut in the roof, and landed back behind Radi where he had looked like he would be carried over.   
"Very good...very good...now come at me, young one. Try and hit me."  
Radi blinked sweat from his eyes. Others were pouring in now, after hearing about what was happening. His friends were still sat where they were before, all watching with a mixture of concern and wonder. And awe, but Radi would not admit that.  
And he thought.  
And he said: "No."  
A sharp intake of breath from all around him. It was like he had just spat in Kwai's eye.  
"Why...do you so readily refuse, young Timbara?"  
"Because...well, because I do not attack people."  
Kwai thought for a second.  
"Even if they are your enemies?"  
Radi shook his head. "If they are my enemies I strike without question. But then comes the case of who my enemies are. And I cannot bring myself to attack you, my lord. Not even if you ask me, or order me, I will not attack you."  
Kwai regarded him for a few moments. Radi shifted his feet nervously, not for a second dropping his defensive posture. And then Kwai laughed, aloud.  
"You are rare, Radi. Very rare..."  
"I should hope so, lord, I would be afraid if there were any more of me."  
Kwai laughed again.  
"Then let us continue. I will not ask you to attack me. We will spar. Yes?"  
Radi grinned. "I would enjoy that very much, lord."  
And as he watched Lord Kwai rise into the air and fall toward him, sword held two-handed, he didn't see his father turn and step back behind the curtain.  
*  
Mirumoto breathed a sigh of relief, for numerous reasons. The foremost of these was that the sword had not rejected him. It had the spirits of his father, his grandfather and his great grandfather bound into it. The sword was a mighty weapon in the right hands. And Radi's hands appeared to be the right ones.  
The second reason he was relieved was that Radi had passed two tests. The first was proficiency with a weapon. Mirumoto had an idea that Radi would pass that. He had taught him a lot in the past four years, and Radi was a fast learner. But the second was a test that Mirumoto had never understood, not fully at any rate. Radi had shown Kwai and everyone else that although he was a damn good warrior, he would not abuse that power. He would use it wisely. And that he was not overly hasty.  
Mirumoto looked up as another Hengeyokai joined him in the passageway; Hokimaru.  
"Old friend...how are you...?"  
Hokimaru smiled that little lopsided smile of his. Mirumoto wondered if Hokimaru's ancestors had passed that down; he knew Ishimaru smiled in the same way sometimes.  
"I am fine. But you are finer. That boy is stunning, Mirumoto...he is as fluid as a river. He is as solid as a rock. He uses the fires of rage to burn his fuel, and he moves like air, sometimes, so quick you cannot see..."  
Mirumoto smiled.  
"Thank you, Hokimaru. But I notice that Ishimaru is growing, too. She is rapidly becoming a focus of affection for some of the older cubs in this court..."  
"She is beautiful, isn't she? But she simply isn't interested. She says she will only ever disobey me once, and that is if I tell her to mate with someone of my choosing, and if that person is the wrong one, she will not do it."  
Mirumoto nodded as they emerged on a rampart. He leaned on the battlements of the fortress section ringing the court itself, and looked out across the mild night.  
"That is partially admirable, partially foolish...I am not sure which is most..."  
Hokimaru laughed and sat on the battlement beside him.  
"Remember, old friend...foxes do things differently to tigers...we use different traditions...I was not intending to choose a mate for her. Surely, one day she will have one. I guarantee that. But I will not be the one to choose him. It is her choice. Who am I to dictate who my daughter spends the rest of her life with?"  
Mirumoto nodded again, and turned to look out at the court. A cheer was heard from the throne room; this only meant one thing, either Kwai was using more of his actual skill, or Radi had done something incredibly entertaining, brave, skilful or stupid.  
"Actually...I was going to ask you something."  
Mirumoto looked up at his friend.  
"Ask away, Hokimaru. You know you can ask me anything. Except for another game of cards."  
Hokimaru smiled lopsidedly again.  
"No cards. I was going to ask your...thoughts on something. Something that might arise. I think you can guess, Mirumoto."  
"If you are thinking what I think you are thinking, you wily old devil...I don't have a problem. I would be delighted, in fact."  
Hokimaru chuckled at that.  
"Good. Cos I think if you did have a problem, we would be in a great deal of trouble..."  
Mirumoto raised an eyebrow.  
"What is that supposed to mean?"  
"You really haven't noticed?"  
"Assume I am as ignorant as you think I am."  
"It is happening already, Mirumoto. It is starting."  
Mirumoto watched his friend for a while. The Kitsune was not a large man; he was slender, and of around average height. He always wore black. His face was deeply lined and scarred; being Roko born, born as a fox, he aged quickly before his change. The scars came from the Kitsune curse of lacking regenerative abilities. But his old friend still retained a glint of cunning in his eyes, even in human guise. They had known each other since they were almost three years old.  
Mirumoto nodded again.  
"Then let us hope auspicious stars shine upon the proceedings...wait."  
Hokimaru cocked his head back and sniffed the air. He sniffed again, and growled.  
"Mirumoto, we have company."  
Mirumoto nodded and reached for his sword. It was not there. He shifted to Crinos, his armour growing over him, and dropped silently over the wall, Hokimaru shifting and following, both as silent and stealthy as shadows.  
*  
In the throne room, the practice continued. Radi was starting to get to know Kwai's speed and power now, and his basic style. And this allowed him to be a little more...artistic.  
Kwai's sword came in at around knee height. Radi leapt, and reading Kwai's movements, pulled in tight for a back flip. He span once in the air, the movement carrying him out of Kwai's striking range, and to his feet. Kwai was still rising. Radi readied himself, and when he saw Kwai landing, he feinted an overhead strike.  
And now we put on the Ritz-  
Radi span around, the blade he held tight in his grasp and arcing around like a comet in the general direction of Kwai's sternum. But as he span, he was watching Ishimaru. She was staring at him. As far as he could tell, she was not watching the fight; she was watching him...   
All too late, Radi realised he had drifted. The Zhong Lung danced backward, knocking the slow-moving point of Puira-Dakat away with the flat of his blade, before darting in, his sword slicing up toward Radi's throat, so quick, Radi didn't know if he could stop it, and he saw the look in Kwai's eyes, of shock, of fear-  
And Radi snapped his hands together, palms on the blade of the sword, stopping it dead, Puira-Dakat dropping, embedding itself in the floor point first.  
The crowd all gasped, though whether they gasped at his lightning reactions or the error that would have killed him in the first place, he did not know.  
"...Radi...I am sorry...I beg forgiveness..."  
Radi snapped back his attention, and let go of the blade of Kwai's sword. His hands were burned, pinkish-red, and felt like they were burned.  
"My lord, you did no wrong, I dropped my guard, it is my fault..."  
A few elders came forward to look at the wounds. Within a few moments they had healed him completely. And Radi looked up as they ministered to his hands.  
Ishimaru was gone.  
He looked around frantically. But she was nowhere to be seen. His other friends were coming forward. Miki in particular looked as if she was very concerned.  
"Radi? Are you okay?"  
"Uh, yes, I am, but Ishimaru?"  
They all looked around. They hadn't noticed her leave, they said.  
Radi picked up Puira-Dakat and sheathed it, and bowed once to Lord Kwai.  
"Thank you for the honour of letting me spar with you, lord...but I must attend to business...again, I thank you..."  
And he sprinted away without even waiting to hear the response.  
*  
Hiroko stood over the prone form of Mai, bleeding from three wounds across his chest.  
They had left the house earlier to come to the court, after having tucked Mark into bed. They wished to see the new General of the Jade Dragons Court. And on their way there, an arrow had lanced from the woods to their left, and punched into Mai's ribs. She had fallen with a yell, and Hiroko had instantly gone Crinos, and span around to face the opponents. She lay there, her breath ragged, feebly trying to get up.  
Their assailants were dressed all in black, thus making them stupidly difficult to see in the moonlight. They were all carrying silver weapons. There were about five of them. And Hiroko strongly suspected that they were vampires. It was a mild night, but in this combat, their breath would at least make some mist. There was none.  
"Get away from my sister or I will gut you all with my bare hands..."  
A laugh from one of the group. He then spoke in Arabic.  
"You are already dead, You simply deny the fact. And we will leave no proof of your existence."  
And with that, the five shadowy assailants drew back their weapons and prepared to strike.  
Hiroko struck first, lashing out with a claw, cutting one of them wide open across the chest. He lashed out with his other claw as well, taking the hand from another of the assailants. But then they were all slicing at him, their superior skill showing through. He felt a wave of pain rise up and start to drown him. He fell. He landed on his front, missing an eye.  
And he looked up.  
And the last thing he saw was one of them stab the already-wounded Mai in the chest with a dagger.  
"Get...away..."  
And then he died.  
*  
Mirumoto lunged around the corner and skidded to a halt when he saw the chaos.  
Two sets of clothes. One was undoubtedly Mai's. The other was Hiroko's, most probably. He sniffed. Yes, Hiroko's. Blood was everywhere.  
"Where are they?"  
Hokimaru slowed and sniffed the air.  
"Oh, no...oh, NO..."  
"What is it, Hoki, tell me!"  
Hokimaru turned to his friend, his fox-face a mask of anger and sorrow.  
"All I can smell is corpses, Mirumoto...that means they are not here..."  
Mirumoto looked around wildly for his children. Admittedly, now they were 25 and 26 respectively. They could take care of themselves...  
Mirumoto threw back his head. And yelled.  
"MAAAIII!! HIROKO! ANSWER ME IF YOU CAN!"  
Hokimaru was busy walking around, examining things. Then he stopped and stood up straight, and closed his eyes, in thought momentarily. Then again he opened his eyes.  
"The others are coming. We will find them, Mirumoto...we will find them..."  
Mirumoto nodded. He didn't believe his friend for a moment. Corpses, Hokimaru had said. That meant vampires. And Kue-Jin always left scent. Always. They were too...careless when it came to discouraging pursuit.  
That left...  
...and this made Mirumoto cringe in panic, and flare with rage...  
...Assamites.  
He growled and started looking around for any kind of clue that could indicate what had happened. If Mai and Hiroko put up any kind of fight, and Mirumoto knew they would, the assassins would take the bodies. And Assamites were the best.  
He kept looking.  
*  
Radi found her sat up on one of the battlements.  
She was sat with her knees hugged close to her chest, her chin resting on them. She was looking out at the moon, the forest that enclosed the den-realm, and the lake, that was always full of koi carp.  
She was crying.  
He walked quietly along the rampart. He could be amazingly stealthy for a boy his size; Nezumi said that he was blessed by Rat to be that quiet and unnoticed.  
And he got within fifteen feet. And said, softly, so as not to startle her:  
"Ishimaru..."  
She span around, her eyes wide and her face damp with tears.  
"Radi?"  
He walked toward her, slowly, his hands held out to either side, open. He had learned that pose. It showed a lack of anger.  
"Yes...it's me...please don't...run away again..."  
She shifted around on the rampart, turning to face inwards now. Again she hugged her knees to her chin.  
"I won't..."  
He walked up and sat cross-legged before her.  
"Why did you run off like that?"  
She looked down at her feet. She was wearing some small black toe shoes that Radi had given her for her birthday last year. She reached down and wiped a speck of lint from one of them.   
And then she looked up, very slowly, and said:  
"Because I almost killed you."  
And a tear ran down her cheek.  
He watched her for a while, reading the feelings that sheeted from her, as if they were written on her. And he stood up.  
"Ishimaru? It wasn't you. It was me that almost killed me."  
She sniffed and wiped away that one tear that had rolled down her cheek.  
"But you just looked up at me, because I was..."  
"...watching the fight. I couldn't blame you for that. And I am alright, Ishi...I am alright..."  
She looked to his hands. And that was the first time he noticed the tiny burn scars on his palms. Tiny little things, like blemishes.  
He looked back up to her.  
"I will heal, Ishi."  
She kept watching him. Her head was slightly cocked to one side, like she was curious. And her hair was being gently brushed about by the breeze.  
"I saw the pain on your face, Radi. I saw the pain. And I know now that your change will come soon. When the silver starts burning, you know you are turning. That is what Kotori's mother always says..."  
And now Radi read that she was on the edge of crying.  
So he did the only thing he could think of, and put his arms around her and hugged her. He had seen his father do it with Mai and things like that...and they always cheered up...  
And she hugged him back, so tightly he wondered if his circulation was alright, and rested her head on Radi's chest.  
And they stayed up there, because Radi didn't know what to do next. It was one thing to know what people were feeling, and quite another to know what to do about it.  
And then he heard his father yelling the names of Mai and Hiroko.  
*  
The first to arrive were the Tengu. Being able to fly over a forest instead of running through it is a huge advantage.  
A few moments later the first Kitsune bounded onto the scene, followed swiftly by the Hakken, the Khan and the Nezumi. Zhong Lung, Nagah and Same-Bito always ran in Homid form.  
By the time Radi and Ishimaru had arrived the entire area within a mile had been cleared. Nothing had been found. Mirumoto was stood central to the radius of the search; a couple of Khan who were sniffing around found the two cubs and took them to him.  
When Radi looked at his father's face, he saw tears.  
"Father...what...what's wrong?"  
He looked at the ground. Then he looked back up to his son.  
"Mai and Hiroko are dead, Radi."  
Radi blinked.  
"They are...dead?"  
Ishimaru gasped, beside him.  
"Oh sweet mother...Radi..."  
And he felt her put her arms around his waist. And he looked at her, then back to his father.  
And then he started crying. He cried for what felt like hours. At one point he fell to his knees, his hands on the ground. But still, Ishimaru was there, by his side, holding him.  
Radi loved a lot. Some people said that he loved too much. But there was a special love he reserved for those close to him. Like his family. And like Ishimaru, and Kotori and the twins, and Miki and Chow and Katakura. Mai had always looked after him whenever he was ill, whenever he felt sad. She was like a second mother. And Hiroko had taught him languages, logic, academics. They both looked after him, and loved him...  
And he cried and cried until he could cry no more.  



End file.
